


Five Times Tony Flirted With Clay and the One Time Clay Flirted Back

by jensens



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensens/pseuds/jensens
Summary: Pretty much what the title says.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably out of character and ridiculously cheesy and just an overall mess, but I really wanted to write a 5+1 fic. Also, what I defined as "flirting" for this work is preeeeeeeetty ambiguous. Unedited, so all of the many mistakes are mine.

i.  
“So, how’s the boyfriend?”

Tony notices how Clay broaches the subject awkwardly. He leans against the door of Tony’s mustang, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes averted to the ground. They never really talk about Tony’s love life, not out of avoidance per say, rather of sympathy for Clay. Sure, it has been awhile since the whole ordeal with the tapes, and they’ve been hanging out more, but Tony can still sense the residual sadness surrounding him. He’s surprised that Clay was the one to bring it up, since he always seemed a bit uncomfortable. 

Tony fiddles with the hood of his mustang for a bit before standing up to answer Clay’s question. 

“Well, his _name_ is Brad.” Tony meets Clay’s eyes, who looks away again guiltily. “And we broke up. A couple weeks ago, actually. We wanted different things”

“Oh! I didn’t know. Sorry about that.”

Clay’s face morphs into the cute expression he makes when he’s confused: eyebrows furrowed, pink mouth pouting and hanging open slightly. That goddamn adorable face of his never fails to tug at Tony’s heart. He had always dismissed his feelings for Clay, since it was never the right time to act on them. First, there had been the gay rumors, so that would have been the last thing Clay needed. Then there was Hannah, who flew in like a beautiful whirlwind, and Tony had never been one to compete with love, thus he stood off to the sidelines and cheered her on. The tapes and the trial had been a whole new level of traumatizing, but a couple of months later Clay had begun to return to normal. So perhaps it’s the newfound simplicity of their situation, that allows Tony to finally make a move.

“No, it’s fine.” Tony takes a few steps closer to Clay, flicking his eyes up and down. “Actually, I’ve had my eye on someone else lately.”

Another moment of confusion registers on Clay’s face, but he soon straightens up and faces Tony as realization seems to dawn upon him. 

“I knew it!” 

“Really? You knew? And you’re fine with it?” Tony says, taken aback by Clay’s forwardness.

“It was so obvious! You guys stared at each other like ten times. Not that I was counting or anything, but still.” Clay gets flustered, blood rushing to his ears. “You are talking about the dude who came to get his car fixed, right? And of course I’m fine with it, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Right,” Tony nods, disappointed that Clay missed the point, and returns to the car.

 

ii.  
Tony sprawls on the couch while Clay paces across the room, the TV rolling credits long forgotten. It’s late on what Clay dubbed “Star Wars Saturday,” instated after Clay found out Tony only vaguely remembered watching the series as a child. That night, the trouble started with an offhand comment by Tony of how the Empire Strikes Back was overrated compared to the Return of the Jedi. Clay had gotten up with such a ferocity that Tony was surprised he didn’t pull out a full on powerpoint on why Tony doesn’t know shit about Star Wars. Now, Tony watches happily from the couch, thinking how nice it is to see Clay passionate about something, albeit something extremely nerdy. 

“...and finally, the storyline for Return of the Jedi is practically a carbon copy of the Empire strikes back!” Clay plops down next to Tony on the couch, satisfied with his argument. 

“Oh, and you should hate Return of the Jedi, cuz, you know, Yoda dies in it.” Tony watches Clay smile widely for this one, obviously quite proud of himself. 

“So if I’m still Yoda, you must be Luke,” Tony quips. “Teach you the ways of the force, I will,” he whispers, looking straight into Clay’s clear blue eyes, which come to think of it, do actually look a lot like Skywalker’s. 

“I fancy myself more as a Han Solo,” Clay laughs, meeting Tony’s skeptic eyebrow raise.

“Really?”

“Really! After all, I am the epitome of rugged manliness.” Clay flexes a bicep, much to Tony’s amusement and enjoyment.

“You know, I think I could make a good Princess Leia.” 

Surely the guy’s not dumb enough to miss this one, Tony thinks to himself. After all, it is a Star Wars reference. He’s practically speaking Clay’s language!

“No silly, you could never get your hair into those buns.” Clay smiles at him and reaches over to poke his shoulder. “You’re Yoda. Always.”

Tony sighs loudly, and mumbles something about watching the next movie. Leaning further back into the couch, he guesses he’ll just have to settle for being Yoda, always. 

iii.  
Since Clay clearly doesn’t listen, Tony’s gonna stop speaking and start doing. That’s why he dragged Clay to Monet’s, literally just to stare soulfully into his eyes. Well, he hasn’t gotten to that second part yet, as purposefully romancing someone with your eyes is a lot easier said than done. They’re sitting across from each other at a corner table, each sipping slowly at a warm hot chocolate. 

“Do you mind telling me the purpose for this 9pm hot chocolate run?”

Tony vaguely remembers calling Clay in a fit of loneliness and longing, asking to meet him at Monet’s. Other than ordering a drink, he hasn’t said a word the entire time, and is beginning to feel the entire idea was just silly.

“You’ve gotta have hot chocolate at your house. You could have gone out to buy some.”

A few moments of silence pass by as Tony fixates on his drink, slowly stirring the melted whipped cream into the thick chocolate until it blends into dark beige. 

“Did you invite me hear just to ignore me?” Clay’s voice breaks a little with this one, sounding lost and confused. 

Tony stiffens in his chair because hurting Clay was the last thing he had in mind for this night. He rips his gaze away from the drink to look up at Clay. One of his hands lies in a loose fist on the table, while the other grips at the mug. Clay meets Tony’s eyes warily, and Tony finds himself falling prey to his earlier plan. Turns out, the whole staring thing isn’t that hard once he starts, and soon Tony is the one finding himself lost. Still, he’s afraid all the staring comes off as a bit creepy, so Tony reaches his hands across the table, tangling their fingers together and rubbing his thumbs gently across Clay’s palms. A ray of hope shines down upon Tony when Clay doesn’t let go, even tightens his grip, only to be extinguished by his following words.

“Are you okay?” The look of genuine concern on Clay’s face brings Tony out of his trance and back to the world where zoning off doesn’t fall into the category of proper flirting techniques for Clay Jensen. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tony says, punctuating the last word. He withdraws hands and folds them across his chest. 

“If this is about Hannah, I get it.” 

This gets Tony’s attention. He remembers too many instances of Clay calling him in the middle of the night, sobbing, because of another Hannah nightmare. Flirtation attempts be darned, Clay’s health always came first to Tony no matter what. 

“You’ve been having those dreams again?”

“What-no-I mean yes, now and then, but they’ve gotten better.” 

Tony doesn’t find this answer acceptable, and he presses Clay for more.

“Explain.”

And Clay does explain. For two hours, in fact. They talk over two more cups of hot chocolate, and even after they get kicked out of Monet’s, they talk in Tony’s car. The conversation moves past Hannah to less draining topics, such as how Clay has never read the Harry Potter series. Tony thinks this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard, since how has Clay, a nerd in all the best possible ways, never read Harry fucking Potter? Laughter emanates throughout the car, until they forget what they were laughing about yet laugh anyways for the pure existence of it. Eventually, Clay’s mom calls and Tony drives Clay home. This time, Tony’s glad Clay couldn’t take a hint. 

iv.

“Yo! Clay. Dance with me?”

“What?”

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“I’d like to think that ‘dance with me’ has a pretty straightforward meaning.

“Tony, we’re in the middle of a grocery store. They’re barely playing actual music! It’s just five different covers of ‘Call Me Maybe” on repeat.”

_Well, I tried,_ Tony thinks to himself. _Goddamnit, Jensen._

v.  
The party is loud, loud, loud, booming around Tony’s ears, enveloping him in a blanket of chatter and the latest sugary pop song. The buzz from the couple of beers he downed started kicking in about ten minutes ago, and he feels great. Tony doesn’t like parties, and he doesn’t like getting wasted, but it’s senior year and he could give less of a fuck. He has heard quite a few things about drinking to drown sorrows, and currently he has one blue eyed sorrow that he’d like to kiss instead of drown. No, it isn’t Clay himself that frustrates Tony; rather, his obliviousness or avoidance of Tony’s flirting attempts. Many nights have been spent pondering whether Clay was just really thick when it comes to romance, and many more to the less pleasant option of Clay not returning his feelings. 

_Speaking of Clay, where is the handsome devil,_ Tony wonders. Last he saw him, Clay had said something about “bathroom,” and “stay where you are.” A sense of dread fills Tony, quicker now with the aid of alcohol, and his mind can only focus on one thing: find Clay. Pushing through the mass of partiers, Tony pays no attention to the weird looks he gets. 

“Clay? Clay? Have you seen Clay Jensen anywhere?”

Eventually, Tony grows tired and sits down to sulk. By the time Clay finds him curled up on a couch, hiccupping, he has forgotten why he was so worried, and instead remembers that he needs to tell Clay something. 

“Tony! Where have you been? You look like shit!”

“You-hiccup- look. Eyes.” Tony gestures towards Clay’s face convincingly. 

“Eyes, hmm?” Clay smirks down at Tony and raises his eyebrows. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” He reaches down and pulls Tony up, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Tony doesn’t protest and leans into Clay’s touch, not making a sound except for an occasional hiccup. They make it outside of the house to where Clay’s bike lies chained to the fence. 

“Your house is only two blocks from here,” he reminds Tony, readjusting their positioning so he can wheel the bike alongside them. 

Tony looks up at Clay and is hit with an overwhelming sense of trust. He wants nothing more than to spin poems and stories and novels about the curve of Clay’s lips and the light in Clay’s eyes, of the love that has slowly consumed him and made him think of writing sappy love poems for fuck’s sake. But somehow this jumble of thoughts only permeates itself into one word. 

“Blue.” Tony affirms this with a light touch to Clay’s cheek. 

“Wait, what?”

“Eyes. Blue.”

“Ohhh. Yeah, they are.” Clay gently smiles down at his friend, whose face lights up into a bigger smile.

“You’re -hiccup- very pretty.”

“Well I guess I have this you know, natural beauty thing going on. I’m glad someone finally noticed.”

Tony bursts out into giggles, pressing his face deeper into Clay’s shoulder. 

“You’re funny too!”

“Now you’re just fanning my ego,” Clay laughs. 

They’ve arrived at Tony’s house, stopping for a moment to let Clay drop his bike on the front lawn. Luckily, Tony being a lightweight had managed to get them to leave the party at 11, before Tony’s parents would notice he’d been out.

“Keys,” Clay asks, stretching out his hand. 

Tony fumbles around in his pocket before producing the jangling keys and places them into Clay’s hand, taking a moment to let his hand rest on top before pulling away. They sneak into the house and up the stairs successfully before arriving at Tony’s room. 

“And this is where I leave you.”

“Wait -hiccup- don’t go yet. I g’g’g’ot some-thin, gotta tell you.”

Clay opens his mouth to speak but is met by a shushing hand. 

“You’re-you’re everything -hiccup- to me, you know? And when I’m with you, I get like butterflies n’ shit -hiccup- So I might love you?” 

The question hangs in the air, dancing and falling with the weight of a thousand possibilities. An aching minute later, Clay breaks the silence, his voice brittle and tired. 

“You’re drunk Tony. Just go to sleep.”

This is about all the convincing Tony needs, and within seconds he’s fast asleep, set on course to forget about all of this in the morning. 

vi.  
“I’m in love with you.”

Tony barges up to the counter at the movie theater, not caring about who hears. Clay has been avoiding him ever since the party, and Tony never liked being ignored. Plus, slow flirting be damned, he will _not_ lose Clay. 

“Well this is… a lot.” Clay looks down and blinks a few times, leaving Tony to practically burst with nervous energy. Finally, Clay looks up with a small smile on his face. 

“Can I buy you a drink. Not really, I mean it’s on the house. Which I guess means is it’s gonna come out of my paycheck, so ultimately I am buying you a drink. I think? I’ve never done this before, things like this don’t normally hap-”

“Clay! I don’t care about the drink. Can we talk though?” Any other day, Tony would have reveled in what seems to be a very Clay way of flirting, but right now he wants to hear what Clay really has to say. 

“I’ll watch the counter, y’all can head out back.” Both Clay and Tony surprisedly turn to the other guy working the counter, who smirks at them and makes a shooing gesture. Sheepishly, Tony walks out behind the theater, trailed by Clay. They sit down on the two chairs in tense wordlessness. Clay opens his mouth several times only to immediately close it, seemingly unable to decide what to say. 

“What was that back there,” Clay asks hesitantly.

“Do you need a fucking dictionary, Clay?” Clay flinches at these words, and Tony instantly regrets them. 

“Ah, no. What I mean is, how did you not know? I’ve been flirting with you for months now!”

Clay pauses for a second to ponder the statement.

“I guess I thought I was overthinking it. I’m not completely oblivious, I’ve got eyes.” Clay glances over at Tony. “Pretty blue ones,” he adds teasingly. “But I always thought I was reading too far into it, like maybe I was assuming because you told me you were gay.” 

“So you thought I did that? For all guys? Seriously, Clay?”

“I don’t know! How am I supposed to tell, huh? Why do you even like me?”

The last question hits home, as looking at Clay get all flustered makes Tony realize just how much he likes, loves him, and Tony finally realizes an action that Clay can’t skew. Leaning over slightly, Tony reaches one hand out to cup Clay’s cheek. His eyes search Clay’s for acceptance, and once the look of sheer nervousness dies down, Clay nods slowly. The kiss begins chaste, their lips touching gently, but gradually Clay becomes more confident and deepens it to Tony’s delight. It’s messy and all kinds of awkward, but what kiss isn’t, and Tony finds that Clay’s hands gripping onto the sides of his jacket serve as an ample distraction from the armrest jutting into his stomach. Yet all good things end somehow, this one with them both leaning slowly back into their respective seats and smiling to themselves. The silence is more comfortable now, yet Tony finds Clay breaking it again, this time to return to their previous conversation. 

“You’ve felt this way for months, huh? Wow Tony, sounds like you’ve got it bad,” Clay says, smiling lopsidedly over at Tony. 

“Yeah,” Tony beams back, “I guess I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for all the nice comments :) Also if any of you guys wanna yell about clony, 13rw, or just life in general with me, my tumblr is @theknownhistory


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